Chapter 5

YET things took quite another turn with me In tune my husband never proved to be, Except a feast or two throughout the year; From Pagamin I met a diff'rent cheer; Another lesson presently he taught; The life's sweet pleasures more the pirate brought, In two short days, than e'er I had from you In those four years that only you I knew.

PRAY leave me husband:--let me have my will Insist not on my living with you still; No calendars with Pagamin are seen-- Far better treated with the man I've been. My other friends and you much worse deserved: The spouse, for taking me when quite unnerved, And they, for giving preference base to gold, To those pure joys--far better thought than told. But Pagamin in ev'ry way can please; And though no code he owns, yet all is ease; Himself will tell you what has passed this morn, His actions would a sov'reign prince adorn. Such information may excite surprise, But now the truth, 'twere useless to disguise, Nothing will gain belief, we've no one near To witness our discourse:--adieu, my dear, To all your festivals--I'm flesh and blood:-- Gems, dresses, ornaments, do little good; You know full well, betwixt the head and heel, Though little's said, yet much we often feel. On this she stopt, and Richard dropt his chin, Rejoiced to 'scape from such unwelcome din.

BARTHOLOMEA, pleased with what had passed; No disposition showed to hold him fast; The downcast husband felt such poignant grief, With ills where age can scarcely hope relief, That soon he left this busy stage of life, And Pagamin the widow took to wife. The deed was just, for neither of the two E'er felt what oft in Richard rose to view; From feeling proof arose their mutual choice; And 'tween them ne'er was heard the jarring voice.

BEHOLD a lesson for the aged man; Who thinks, when old, to act as he began; But, if the sage a yielding dotard seems, His work is done by those the wife esteems; Complaints are never heard; no thrilling fears; And ev'ry one around at ease appears.

THE AVARICIOUS WIFE AND TRICKING GALLANT

WHO knows the world will never feel surprise, When men are duped by artful women's eyes; Though death his weapon freely will unfold; Love's pranks, we find, are ever ruled by gold. To vain coquettes I doubtless here allude; But spite of arts with which they're oft endued; I hope to show (our honour to maintain,) We can, among a hundred of the train, Catch one at least, and play some cunning trick:-- For instance, take blithe Gulphar's wily nick, Who gained (old soldier-like) his ardent aim, And gratis got an avaricious dame.

LOOK well at this, ye heroes of the sword, Howe'er with wily freaks your heads be stored, Beyond a doubt, at court I now could find, A host of lovers of the Gulphar kind.

To Gasperin's so often went our wight, The wife at length became his sole delight, Whose youth and beauty were by all confessed; But, 'midst these charms, such av'rice she possessed, The warmest love was checked--a thing not rare, In modern times at least, among the FAIR. 'Tis true, as I've already said, with such Sighs naught avail, and promises not much; Without a purse, who wishes should express, Would vainly hope to gain a soft caress. The god of love no other charm employs, Then cards, and dress, and pleasure's cheering joys; From whose gay shops more cuckolds we behold, Than heroes sallied from Troy's horse of old.

BUT to our lady's humour let's adhere; Sighs passed for naught: they entered not her ear; 'Twas speaking only would the charmer please, The reader, without doubt, my meaning sees; Gay Gulphar plainly spoke, and named a sum A hundred pounds, she listened:--was o'ercome.

OUR wight the cash by Gasperin was lent; And then the husband to the country went, Without suspecting that his loving mate, Designed with horns to ornament his pate.

THE money artful Gulphar gave the dame, While friends were round who could observe the same; Here, said the spark, a hundred pounds receive, 'Tis for your spouse:--the cash with you I leave. The lady fancied what the swain had said, Was policy, and to concealment led.

NEXT morn our belle regaled the arch gallant, Fulfilled his promise:--and his eager want. Day after day he followed up the game; For cash he took, and int'rest on the same; Good payers get, we always may conclude, Full measure served, whatever is pursued.

WHEN Gasperin returned, our crafty wight, Before the wife addressed her spouse at sight; Said he the cash I've to your lady paid, Not having (as I feared) required its aid; To save mistakes, pray cross it in your book; The lady, thunderstruck, with terror shook; Allowed the payment; 'twas a case too clear; In truth for character she 'gan to fear. But most howe'er she grudged the surplus joy, Bestowed on such a vile, deceitful boy.

THE loss was doubtless great in ev'ry view Around the town the wicked Gulphar flew; In all the streets, at every house to tell, How nicely he had trick'd the greedy belle.

To blame him useless 'twere you must allow; The French such frolicks readily avow.

THE JEALOUS HUSBAND

A CERTAIN husband who, from jealous fear, With one eye slept while t'other watched his dear, Deprived his wife of every social joy, (Friends oft the jealous character annoy,) And made a fine collection in a book, Of tricks with which the sex their wishes hook. Strange fool! as if their wiles, to speak the truth, Were not a hydra, both in age and youth.

HIS wife howe'er engaged his constant cares; He counted e'en the number of her hairs; And kept a hag who followed every hour, Where'er she went, each motion to devour; Duenna like, true semblance of a shade, That never quits, yet moves as if afraid.

THIS arch collection, like a prayer-book bound; Was in the blockhead's pocket always found, The form religious of the work, he thought, Would prove a charm 'gainst vice whenever sought!

ONE holy day, it happened that our dame, As from the neighb'ring church she homeward came; And passed a house, some wight, concealed from view; A basket full of filth upon her threw.

WITH anxious care apologies were made; The lady, frightened by the frolick played, Quite unsuspicious to the mansion went; Her aged friend for other clothes she sent, Who hurried home, and ent'ring out of breath; Informed old hunks--what pained him more than death

ZOUNDS! cried the latter, vainly I may look To find a case like this within my book; A dupe I'm made, and nothing can be worse:-- Hell seize the work--'tis thoroughly a curse!

NOT wrong he proved, for, truly to confess; This throwing dirt upon the lady's dress Was done to get the hag, with Argus' eyes Removed a certain distance from the prize. The gay gallant, who watched the lucky hour, Felt doubly blessed to have her in his power.

HOW vain our schemes to guard the wily sex! Oft plots we find, that ev'ry sense perplex. Go, jealous husbands, books of cases burn; Caresses lavish, and you'll find return.

THE GASCON PUNISHED

A GASCON (being heard one day to swear, That he'd possess'd a certain lovely fair,) Was played a wily trick, and nicely served; 'Twas clear, from truth he shamefully had swerved: But those who scandal propagate below, Are prophets thought, and ev'ry action know; While good, if spoken, scarcely is believed, And must be viewed, or not for truth received.

THE dame, indeed, the Gascon only jeered, And e'er denied herself when he appeared; But when she met the wight, who sought to shine; And called her angel, beauteous and divine, She fled and hastened to a female friend, Where she could laugh, and at her ease unbend.

NEAR Phillis, (our fair fugitive) there dwelled One Eurilas, his nearest neighbour held; His wife was Cloris; 'twas with her our dove Took shelter from the Gascon's forward love, Whose name was Dorilas; and Damon young, (The Gascon's friend) on whom gay Cloris hung.

SWEET Phillis, by her manner, you might see, From sly amours and dark intrigues was free; The value to possess her no one knew, Though all admired the lovely belle at view. Just twenty years she counted at the time, And now a widow was, though in her prime, (Her spouse, an aged dotard, worth a plum:-- Of those whose loss to mourn no tears e'er come.)

OUR seraph fair, such loveliness possessed, In num'rous ways a Gascon could have blessed; Above, below, appeared angelic charms; 'Twas Paradise, 'twas Heav'n, within her arms!

THE Gascon was--a Gascon;--would you more? Who knows a Gascon knows at least a score. I need not say what solemn vows he made; Alike with Normans Gascons are portrayed; Their oaths, indeed, won't pass for Gospel truth; But we believe that Dorilas (the youth) Loved Phillis to his soul, our lady fair, Yet he would fain be thought successful there.

ONE day, said Phillis, with unusual glee, Pretending with the Gascon to be free:-- A favour do me:--nothing very great; Assist to dupe one jealous of his mate; You'll find it very easy to be done, And doubtless 'twill produce a deal of fun. 'Tis our request (the plot you'll say is deep,) That you this night with Cloris's husband sleep Some disagreement with her gay gallant Requires, that she a night at least should grant, To settle diff'rences; now we desire, That you'll to bed with Eurilas retire, There's not a doubt he'll think his Cloris near; He never touches her:--so nothing fear; For whether jealousy, or other pains, He constantly from intercourse abstains, Snores through the night, and, if a cap he sees, Believes his wife in bed, and feels at ease. We'll properly equip you as a belle, And I will certainly reward you well.

TO gain but Phillis's smiles, the Gascon said, He'd with the very devil go to bed.

THE night arrived, our wight the chamber traced; The lights extinguished; Eurilas, too, placed; The Gascon 'gan to tremble in a trice, And soon with terror grew as cold as ice; Durst neither spit nor cough; still less encroach; And seemed to shrink, least t'other should approach; Crept near the edge; would scarcely room afford, And could have passed the scabbard of a sword.

OFT in the night his bed-fellow turned round; At length a finger on his nose he found, Which Dorilas exceedingly distressed; But more inquietude was in his breast, For fear the husband amorous should grow, From which incalculable ills might flow.

OUR Gascon ev'ry minute knew alarm; 'Twas now a leg stretched out, and then an arm; He even thought he felt the husband's beard; But presently arrived what more he feared.

A BELL, conveniently, was near the bed, Which Eurilas to ring was often led; At this the Gascon swooned, so great his fear, And swore, for ever he'd renounce his dear. But no one coming, Eurilas, once more, Resumed his place, and 'gan again to snore.

AT length, before the sun his head had reared; The door was opened, and a torch appeared. Misfortune then he fancied full in sight; More pleased he'd been to rise without a light, And clearly thought 'twas over with him now; The flame approached;--the drops ran o'er his brow; With terror he for pardon humbly prayed:-- You have it, cried a fair: be not dismayed; 'Twas Phillis spoke, who Eurilas's place Had filled, throughout the night, with wily grace, And now to Damon and his Cloris flew, With ridicule the Gascon to pursue; Recounted all the terrors and affright, Which Dorilas had felt throughout the night. To mortify still more the silly swain, And fill his soul with ev'ry poignant pain, She gave a glimpse of beauties to his view, And from his presence instantly withdrew.

THE PRINCESS BETROTHED TO THE KING OF GARBA

WHAT various ways in which a thing is told Some truth abuse, while others fiction hold; In stories we invention may admit; But diff'rent 'tis with what historick writ; Posterity demands that truth should then Inspire relation, and direct the pen.

ALACIEL'S story's of another kind, And I've a little altered it, you'll find; Faults some may see, and others disbelieve; 'Tis all the same:--'twill never make me grieve; Alaciel's mem'ry, it is very clear, Can scarcely by it lose; there's naught to fear. Two facts important I have kept in view, In which the author fully I pursue; The one--no less than eight the belle possessed, Before a husband's sight her eyes had blessed; The other is, the prince she was to wed Ne'er seemed to heed this trespass on his bed, But thought, perhaps, the beauty she had got Would prove to any one a happy lot.

HOWE'ER this fair, amid adventures dire, More sufferings shared than malice could desire; Though eight times, doubtless, she exchanged her knight No proof, that she her spouse was led to slight; 'Twas gratitude, compassion, or good will; The dread of worse;--she'd truly had her fill; Excuses just, to vindicate her fame, Who, spite of troubles, fanned the monarch's flame: Of eight the relict, still a maid received;-- Apparently, the prince her pure believed; For, though at times we may be duped in this, Yet, after such a number--strange to miss! And I submit to those who've passed the scene, If they, to my opinion, do not lean.

THE king of Alexandria, Zarus named, A daughter had, who all his fondness claimed, A star divine Alaciel shone around, The charms of beauty's queen were in her found; With soul celestial, gracious, good, and kind, And all-accomplished, all-complying mind.

THE rumour of her worth spread far and wide, The king of Garba asked her for his bride, And Mamolin (the sov'reign of the spot,) To other princes had a pref'rence got.

THE fair, howe'er, already felt the smart Of Cupid's arrow, and had lost her heart; But 'twas not known: princesses love conceal, And scarcely dare its whispers fond reveal; Within their bosoms poignant pain remains, Though flesh and blood, like lasses of the plains.

THE noble Hispal, one of zarus' court, A handsome youth, as histories report, Alaciel pleased; a mutual flame arose, Though this they durst not venture to disclose Or, if expressed, 'twas solely by the eyes:-- Soul-speaking language, nothing can disguise!

AFFIANCED thus, the princess, with a sigh, Prepared to part, and fully to comply. The father trusted her to Hispal's care, Without the least suspicion of the snare; They soon embarked and ploughed the briny main; With anxious hopes in time the port to gain.

WHEN they, from Egypt's coast had sailed a week; To gain the wind they saw a pirate seek, Which having done, he t'wards them bore in haste, To take the ship in which our fair was placed.

THE battle quickly raged; alike they erred; The pirates slaughter loved, and blood preferred, And, long accustomed to the stormy tide, Were most expert, and on their skill relied. In numbers, too, superior they were found; But Hisipal's valour greatly shone around, And kept the combat undecided long; At length Grifonio, wond'rous large and strong; With twenty sturdy, pirates got on board, And many soon lay gasping by the sword. Where'er he trod, grim death and horrour reigned; At length, the round the noble Hispal gained. His nervous arm laid many wretches low Rage marked his eyes, whene'er he dealt a blow:

BUT, while the youth was thus engaged in fight, Grifonio ran to gain a sweeter sight; The princess was on board full well he knew; No time he lost, but to her chamber flew; And, since his pleasures seemed to be her doom; He bore her like a sparrow from the room: But not content with such a charming fair, He took her diamonds, ornaments for hair, And those dear pledges ladies oft receive, When they a lover's ardent flame believe. Indeed, I've heard it hinted as a truth, (And very probable for such a youth,) That Hispal, while on board, his flame revealed; And what chagrin she felt was then concealed, The passage thinking an improper time, To shew a marked displeasure at his crime.

THE pirate-chief who carried off his prey, Had short-lived joy, for, wishing to convey His charming captive from the ship with speed; One vessel chanced a little to recede, Although securely fastened by the crew, With grappling hooks, as usually they do, When quite intent to pass, young Hispal made A blow, that dead at once the ruffian laid; His head and shoulders, severed from the trunk; Fell in the sea, and to the bottom sunk, Abjuring Mahomet, and all the tribe Of idle prophets, Catholics proscribe; Erect the rest upon the legs remained; The very posture as before retained; This curious sight no doubt a laugh had raised,-- But in the moment, she, so lately praised, With dread Grifonio, fell beyond their view; To save her, straight the gallant Hispal flew. The ships, for want of pilots at the helm, At random drifted over Neptune's realm.

GRIM death the pirate forced to quit his slave; Buoyed up by clothes, she floated on the wave, 'Till Hispal succour lent, who saw 'twas vain To try with her the vessel to regain. He could, with greater ease, the fair convey To certain rocks, and thither bent his way; Those rocks to sailors oft destruction proved, But now the couple saved, who thither moved: 'Tis even said the jewels were not lost, But sweet Alaciel, howsoever tost, Preserved the caskets, which with strings were tied; And seizing these, the treasure drew aside.

OUR swimmer on his back the princess bore; The rock attained; but hardships were not o'er; Misfortunes dire the noble pair pursued And famine, worst of ills, around was viewed. No ship was near; the light soon passed away; The night the same; again appeared the day; No vessel hove in sight; no food to eat; Our couple's wretchedness seemed now complete; Hope left them both, and, mutual passion moved, Their situation more tormenting proved.

LONG time in silence they each other eyed At length, to speak the lovely charmer tried Said she, 'tis useless, Hispal, to bewail: Tears, with the cruel Parcae, naught avail; Each other to console be now our aim; Grim death his course will follow still the same. To mitigate the smart let's try anew; In such a place as this few joys accrue.

CONSOLE each other, say you? Hispal cried; What can console when forced one's love to hide? Besides, fair princess, ev'ry way 'tis clear, Improper 'twere for you to love while here; I equally could death or famine brave; But you I tremble for, and wish to save.

THESE words so pained the fair, that gushing tears Bedewed Alaciel's cheeks, her looks spoke fears; The ardent flame which she'd so long concealed; Burst forth in sighs, and all its warmth revealed; While such emotion Hispal's eyes expressed, That more than words his anxious wish confessed. These tender scenes were followed by a kiss, The prelude sweet of soft enchanting bliss; But whether taken, or by choice bestowed, Alike 'twas clear, their heaving bosoms glowed.

THOSE vows now o'er, said Hispal with a sigh, In this adventure, if we're doomed to die, Indiff'rent surely 'tis, the prey to be Of birds of air, or fishes of the sea; My reason tells me ev'ry grave's the same, Return we must, at last, from whence we came, Here ling'ring death alone we can expect; To brave the waves 'tis better to elect; I yet have strength, and 'tis not far to land; The wind sets fair: let's try to gain the strand; From rock to rock we'll go: I many view, Where I can rest; to THIS we'll bid adieu.

TO move, Alaciel readily agreed; Again our couple ventured to proceed; The casket safe in tow; the weather hot; From rock to rock with care our swimmer got; The princess, anxious on his back to keep:-- New mode of traversing the wat'ry deep.

WITH Heav'n's assistance, and the rocks for rest, The youth, by hunger and fatigue oppressed, Uneasiness of mind, weighed down with care, Not for himself, but safety of the fair, A fast of two long tedious days now o'er, The casket and the belle he brought on shore: